


The Crown of Thorns

by Conreeaght



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Torture, Grand Prince Hux, Half-Elf Kylo Ren, Knight Kylo Ren, Kylux Big Bang 2016, M/M, Nightmares, Tortured
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conreeaght/pseuds/Conreeaght
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kingdom is on the verge of civil war. An old king Brendol the First brought his kingdom to ruin by making wrong decisions and constantly looking for a fight with neighbouring countries. His son, young grand price, watching his father doings, tries to save his beloved homeland. But convincing is just not enough. The king blinded by rage does not want to listen to his son. The prince has no other choice, but to overthrow his father and take a throne for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crown of Thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tizzin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tizzin/gifts).



> My entry for [The Kylux Big Bang 2016](http://kyluxbigbang.tumblr.com/). This is also my very first kylux fanfic ever and first story I've written since... very long time. Please, be gentle.
> 
> With dedication and love for my best friend [Allantiee](http://allantieeart.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> ~~It still needs some tinkering and beta reading. Sorry.~~

 

_A crown_

_Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns._

_Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights_

_To him who wears the regal diadem._

John Milton, _Paradise Regained_ (1671), Book II, line 458.

 

 

 

 

 

Door creaking open broke the perfect silence. The approaching sound of heavy, confident footsteps echoed between rows of tall columns. The capitals embellished with floral and animal low-reliefs faded away far in the shadows of night.

Bren knew them all, every simple petal, every muzzle twisted with a wild roar. He had learned them by heart since the first time he had found this place. Scary beasts from above had stared with wrath in their eyes at tiny, ginger boy who dared to enter this cursed chamber boldly and then run away right into his mother's arms. And yet, he had return and tamed all the beasts by giving them names.

But that was so long ago. He outgrew believing in ghosts hunting this place, or an old curse put by some mad, ancient emperor.

Since the moment he had understood that, this chamber became his hideaway, his place of safety. He came here to be alone and think, far from all the court noise and drama, far from all those frivolous courtiers, disloyal soldiers, his father's spies and the king himself. At least he still was the superstitious one, scared of the jinxes.

Bren raised his head as the footsteps came closer and closer. He straightened up, leaning on a throne backrest, hard like stone, but never as cold. They said that dragon bones would never get cold, but their heat could reach for the weak mind and bring madness to one touching them. But Bren had never been afraid of that. He used this seat for year and his mind remained sharp as ever.

Now he looked into the darkness crawling in the nave, waiting for the one that found him here. The one who has never come here to admire architectural achievements of old, or to tremble before some tale for children.

A tall silhouette loomed out of the darkness, but did not dare to step into the moonlight coming through stained-glass window.

“My prince.” A voice like a animal growl filled the throne room. “So you came back.”

The air thickened with sorrow and anger when the man spoke. Bren almost forgot how it felt to be around him, to feel that wild call of hunger and power. And he certainly forgot who much he liked it.

“And you are still here.” Bren gave the man in the shadow a piercing look and smirked.

A blatant mockery did not seem to move the other man at all. He froze in one place, like a statute of a hunting beast ready to jump and kill.

“Now, now, Ren,” murmured Bren amused. “Come closer.”

It was more of an order than a pleasant request or suggestion even, but Ren obeyed as always. He entered the circle of light and stood up straight right in front of the throne. Specks of colourful light danced on obsidian black breastplate.

Bren ran his eyes over broad shoulders hidden under the pelt of black wolf. He remembered that particular hunt well.The day he had met the knight standing before him now.

He rose his head to look straight into the eyes of the beast. It bared its sharp teeth at him with face frozen in everlasting fury.

“Do not stand there.” He wave his hand on Ren. “You know your place.”

Quiet growl uttered/escaped from behind the mask, but the knight approached Bren slowly like a predator ready to attack its prey. He circled the podium to avoid the light and knelt before the throne close to the prince's knees.

“My liege,” he murmured and lowered his head.

Bren smiled and passed his fingers over the mask touching fangs. “So you remembered.”

He reached to a fastening on the back of Ren's neck. The buckle clicked when he took the helmet off freeing a young face from behind the mask. The prince cocked his head. Ren has barely changed since they had seen each other. Still boylike, but handsome, even now when Ren looked at him angry. The raw power glanced at the prince from the dark eyes. Yes, he had barely changed.

“I got your letter” He ran with his fingers through his knight ruffled hair. He slicked them back a little and exposing the ear.

Kylo cringed as the prince stroked the pointy tip of his ear. Bren knew well that his servant hated that kind of caress as much as he hated his heritage, the blood of slaves running in his veins. He brushed Bren's hand away, but the prince caught him strongly by his chin forcing to look up. Bren'sgreyish-green eyes darkened.

“Some things never change,” mocked the prince as he let Kylo go. “Tell me, Ren, do you know what my father has prepared for me? I assume the council meeting has intended to lure me here.”

“I don't serve your father, you know that,” barked Kylo.

“Yes, but you spy for me. What use do I have from you in the castle if you know nothing of importance.”

“The Council assembled to discuss the war.”

“I know as much,” spoke Bren annoyed. “I can't vote without a seat. He wants something from me. He is not as sneaky as he thinks.”

“The queen could vote...”

“No! I will not drag my mother into this. Even so... she will not do anything against my father's will. Shame. But I know others are on our side.”

“The rest the councilors might be too weak too oppose the king.”

“Since when?” asked Bren surprised.

“The king has a new enforcer. She is... dangerous.”

“Someone new and you are scared of them.” The corner of Bren's mouth twitched a little bit. He could mock Ren as much as he liked, but that information was unsettling. The king had found someone powerful enough and even Ren admitted it.

“I'm not, but you should,” cautioned the knight.

Bren bit his bottom lip and shook his head.

“So he knows,” he stated and glanced at Ren with angry glint. “And your master?”

“He suspects nothing.”

“For now.”

“We'll see. I'm leaving tonight.”

The prince moved quickly, so their noses touched.

“So soon? The moons are not full yet.”

“He called for me. I must go.”

“Then go.” Bren moved away and leaned on the throne far from being relaxed.

“Will you be alright while I'm gone?”

“Is that worry I hear in your voice? Careful, Ren. One may think you care.”

“Never. I simply–”

“So don't. I can take care of myself. As you know.”

Kylo saw the prince taking care of his problems with logic and grace many times. His opponents had never lived long after offending Bren and his devious mind.

“My prince,” he spoke eventually taking his prince fingers in both hands. He pressed his forehead against the back of the freckled hand. “You took my oath as I pledged my word and my sword to yo—”

“And your life is in my hand,” Bren broke in mildly amused. “I am well aware... Go now. I need to think in silence.”

Ren put a small kiss on a ruby ring on the princes finger and stood up. After short bow, he left so noiselessly like a spirit and Bren felt like he was here alone all the time.

 

*

 

The cold wind and rain lashed against Kylo's mask while his horse galloped along plains covered by snow.

The weather worsened with every minute the knight was receding from the capital. It snowed heavily, but soon the blizzard turned into freezing rain. The wind, bitting through the pelt and armour, was the only constant.

The mount bucked nervously, losing his balance. Kylo drew in the reins and braced his legs against the stirrups to hold in the saddle. That helped the animal to stay on all four hooves. They trotted forward to a mountain range showing faintly out of the distance.

Kylo felt the Force growing stronger with every step his horse took. . Far from this place, in the comforts of the royal palace, he felt free and safe, but the more the mountains neared, the pull of the darkness grew more powerful.

He turned his horse and headed up to a small path, almost invisible among rocks covered with moss. Climbing was unpleasant for them both. The horse hooves slipped on the stony road. Kylo got off the saddle and led his mount by the reins. If his master wanted him dead, it would be a great place. A narrow mountain track that no one traveled across in many cycles. If his foot slided down from a rock and he fell down a chasm, no one would know, even the prince... Bren.

Lost in his thoughts, Kylo almost missed a hidden passage. Bending forward, he went into low tunnel cut under a mountain peak.

“Come on, Lambda,” he encouraged the horse snorting behind his back.

The walk took Ren ages. He fought with his horse and had to cover his eyes. After that the animal obediently trotted after the raider until they took the wrong turn and could not squeeze through a narrow passage.

Kylo clenched his fists. The first wave of anger came and passed. The second one was worse and stayed with him longer. A red mist clouded his vision and he could not take a breath. Somehow the stone wall started closing over his head.

 _Seriously, Ren,_ the familiar voice echoed in his head. _There is truly no reason for you to act like a bloody idiot._

“Why do you always insult me, Bren?” barked Kylo through clenched teeth.

 _You let me,_ murmured the voice and he almost felt the presence of the prince by his side. _But sometimes it helps, does it not? You are more angry at me than at yourself. Use your head, Kylo._

“Yes.” He breathed as he struggled to take his helmet off, but the fastening would not give up under his shaky fingers. He pulled the leather strap and it broke easily. He freed himself from behind the mask. Cool air calmed him down. The second wave grew feeble and faded away. He was free, for a while at least.

A little nudge on his shoulder woke him from stupor. The mount took the matter in his own hooves.

“Yes, we're going.” He backed out to find the right way.

Kylo breathed fully only when they got out of that cursed tunnel. Standing up on the rocky ledge, he let the rain to cool his face, and put the helmet back on.

He looked below on a valley covered with a blanket of mist. He was so close now, but he would rather turn back and ran. He did not miss this place at all.

The gusting wind dispersed clouds. The milky grey haze slowly went down, at first uncovering a soaring defensive tower. Soon smaller turrets and a curtain wall emerged from under the disappearing veil.

The ancient fortress flaunted proudly among at the floor of the valley.

The surroundings vibrated and flickered in front of Kylo. Someone tried to play tricks on him. The air pulsating with the Force filled the valley. Ren felt the darkness approaching and crawling around him. The dark side clutched on his soul. His master was waiting for him.

 

*

 

The longer Kylo climbed a steep stairway of the tower, the less he believed his own senses. An illusion, keeping this place together, grew weaker with every step he took. His own aura easily broke through spells woven for centuries.

The stairs crumbled and slided down under his boots. Colourful carpets and tapestries, once works of art, now were turning into decaying shreds right before his very eyes.

Kylo's instinct howled at back of his head, telling him to run from those ruins, reeking of plague, darkness and death. But he did not listen. Only his steel will power and simple force of habit kept him from turning back and leaving this place with his tail between his legs.

 

Countless stairs later, Ren stood in front of mighty double door fixed with metal fittings. It was the only thing here that seemed real and full.

He pushed heavy door leaf, opening slightly enough for him to enter. He regretted his decision when the stench of decay and corrupted air enfolded him. Semi-darkness prevailed in the chamber, but he knew his way. He moved slowly forward, his eyes adapting to the lack of light.

His thoughts fled to Bren and prince's favourite place in his father's castle. This place could bring the madness as well as the curse of the dragon throne room, but that is where the resemblance ended. Ren suddenly missed the moonlight illuminating the interior of the throne room through stained-glass windows. As he crossed the long nave closing to a podium, he dispelled those thoughts so unnecessary and dangerous in here .

“My lord,” he spoke, raising his head to a throne predominating over the room. This seat looked as ancient as the castle itself, and crude compared to the intricacy of the dragon throne. “I came for your summons.”

 _Ah, master Ren_ , the voice of an old man filled his mind, beguiling his senses with its unforeseeable power.

Kylo summoned all his strength to armour himself against this force, clutching on his mind, making him obey. His master had collected his powers for aeons and he knew every thought and every desire of his former apprentice. 

Ren looked up, straining his eyes. A thin, cloaked in black silhouette loomed in the shadows, concealing the throne.

He visited this place many time, but only twice in wakefulness. His master appeared more real in his dreams than here and now, in the physical world. The scarred and furrowed face flickered, revealing a bare, emotionless skull. Kylo k to scare children like him. But the fairy tale had come to life. The old warlock had never gave away his real name to his subjects. He had appeared once in Ren's dreams as Snoke, and that was everything the knight knenew the price this man had to pay for playing with life and death. First he thought it was a myth, some storyw about his master.

 _You failed me_ , bellowed the warlock under Kylo's skull, startling the knight out of his reverie. _You did not fulfill the plan. Was it beyond your strength and capabilities?_

“I've waited for a suitable time.” Kylo lowered his head and clenched his fists.

 _The convenient time has come, but you have missed it_ , seethed the old man, stabbing his pale, bony finger at Ren. _The madness, I have sent, overwhelmed the king. He dreams of nothing but blood and war. Your objective was the young prince..._

Kylo grimaced and his helmet concealed his turning pale face.

“The prince is mine. And he trusts me unconditionally,” he lied and was sure that Snoke could feel his doubts.

_His trust we do not need anymore The plan advanced._

Ren shuddered and lifted his head again to look at the warlock. He tried to comprehend Snoke's words. Could his master suddenly change his plans he had woven in the dark for so long?

 _The prince and the king, they both are a redundant arduousness_ , continued Snoke. _I took precautionary measures. My weapon is on its place and soon everything is going to turn out perfectly. You shall take the throne in my name as we have planned._

Kylo gasped. The cold fingers of fear clutched sank into his chest and caught his heart squeezing tightly.

“That woman...” he mumbled distracted by sudden realization.

 _Yees, I can see you have already met my new weapon. Is she not splendid?_ Snoke sounded entertained with Ren's moment of weakness. _She will be of use. Nevertheless, she is simply a weapon._

Kylo harboured no illusions about his own position. He had been so proud when the warlock chose him. He had wanted to learn everything and become the enchanter greater than his own master. But that had been in the past. His stay with Bren had showed him that he was simply a pawn on a board of Snoke's complicated and plotted for years plan. And yet... The longer he was here, before his master, the quicker he forgot why wanted to go back so badly under Bren's wing.

_The will come the time for her as well. I count on you not failing me this time. Master Ren?_

“Yes, my master, I won't,” murmured the knight humbly bowing his head.

_Excellent. First the king, then his son..._

Kylo only suspected what kind of fate awaited for the ruler and his son. At the thought of Bren, the clutches tightened around his chest.

He had know his plan perfectly. Till now he suppose to keep the prince alive, gain his trust and assist him with the sword and advice. He had served Bren faithfully for so many years and sometimes he forgot about the grand plan. The influence and charm of the prince worked magic on his soul and played tricks with his mind, but it was somehow more subtle.

“My lord,” he dared to ask eventually. “What will happen to Br– to the prince?”

Snoke glared at the knight clutching on his sword's pommel tightly. Even if he saw Ren's incertitude and sensed his doubts, he said and did nothing. The plan was in motion already.

 _The outcome is obvious._ He bent forward on his throne to be close to his subject. _The council meeting take place as we speak. Soon all inconveniences will be removed from our way and problems will solve themselves._

The blood has drained from Kylo's face, when he finally understood the real meaning of the warlock's words. He stood straightened up and his head started spinning. Numb and speechless he listened to further plans his master had concocted, but all his strength disappeared and he did not object.

 

*

 

Royal guardsmen saluted the prince, when he crossed a threshold of the royal throne room.

Bren sneered, noticing that the guards' hands tremble on their halberd. Usually it was his knight who brought fear to courtiers, but this time he was alone, yet his exile made others to skitter away and avoid him. He wondered what kind of rumors circulated around the palace. Whatever it was, at least those two by the door were smart enough to welcome their prince and general with proper honours. Captain Phasma had trained them well.

He entered the chamber prepared for the Council meeting. Ten massive armchairs waited for advisor arranged in a semicircle in front of a king's throne. Every seat was embellished with a family crest as everyone had a place in a hierarchy, nothing was random. His glance swept the armchairs and stopped at the empty throne. It lack in the finesse of the imperial throne. Simple seat carved in the marble had to remind rulers that they were nothing more than viceroys, ready to resign if the legitimate heir of the imperial line would come back, claiming right to the throne. Discomfort of the cold stone was the symbol of that temporariness and yet no one ever came to claim the rule. Viceroys had been quick to crown themselves kings and leave the old, cursed throne room. It was Bren's ancestor, the founder of the Hux dynasty, who had built this north wing of the royal palace to be remember by his descendants. One of his successors ordered to line the hard seat with soft cushions and satin thus ending the belief in heir of the last emperor leaving somewhere in the world. No one ever opposed, because only few had left who had remembered about the Empire and a short history of its collapse.

A suggestive slight cough behind his back shook him back into the present times. An elegant old man came into the throne room. Bren knew him and his scheming on the court perfectly. The Duke Cantrohad a seat in the Council for almost fifty years and remembered the rule of two previous kings. He was a skillful machinator and his conservative views on traditions and politics ensured him constant support of the king and his subjects. Even though Bren he valued the aristocrats tactical mind, he did not like the man, who had never forgive the father of the king for not choosing his own granddaughter to be a queen.

“Your Royal Highness,” the Duke greeted him with a sly smile.

“Your Grace, I am pleased to see you in a good health,” spoke Bren. He knew what that man thought about him, but it did not matter. The fact that the Duke did not respect his mother, the Queen, and talked behind her back, spreading ugly rumours was getting on his nerves. He should do something about that soon, before his return to the garrison.

“Now, please excuse me,” said Bren, slightly bowing his head, and left the Duke alone.

He preferred to observe from afar when the Councilors would suffer silently in his father's presence. He had a perfect spot between columns from where he could watch all the scene.

Bren did not stand there alone for long. The captain of the royal guards found him than he has assumed. She stood by his side noiselessly.

“Phasma,” he started, turning his head to the woman a silvery shining armour. The red cape threw on her shoulder was a new addition, giving her even more dignifying look. “It is good to see you.”

“Your Highness,” said the captain calmly, bowing her head hidden under polished helmet.

Bren frowned. Phasma had never treated him such a formal coldness. They had known each other since childhood. They had trained together. Only she had had the courage to tan young prince's hide and taunt heir to the throne about his poor fighting skills. She had never made fuss of Bren's pride and his was forever grateful her for that. Thanks to her he had learnt how to act cunning and nimble during the fight. When for the first time, he had brought her to her knees, she had laugh so hard, and now, she stood stiff and uncomfortable next to him.

“What brings you here?” he asked eventually to broke an unpleasant silence between them.

“Her Highness the Queen wants to see you,” explained Phasma, showing Bren the way to a side exit.

 

The Queen raised herself, smoothing down her dark green brocade gown, as her son came to her chamber in a company of the captain.

“Bren, dearest,” she said smiling gently. She brushed long golden red locks off her shoulder.

Bren came closer, taking mother hands in his and kissed them both.

“Lady Mother,” he whispered and looked at the queen. “I am glad to see—”

“Why have you not come to greet me?” she chided him wrinkling her nose. “Did you not receive my letter?”

“I did and I thank you. I thought everything is fixed and ready. I have waited for you in the throne room.”

“I could not,” she spoke, moving closer and turning her voice to a whisper. “But I made my decision.”

She took a heavy, iron signet off her finger and put it into Bren's hands.

“Mother!” he cried out as if the ring scalded his skin. “I have written to you many times. That is out of question.”

“Your grandfather would wish that.” The Queens closed son's fingers over the ring. “It belongs to you together with the responsibility. And I am not afraid anymore.”

Bren closed his eyes tight. It was too fast, too dangerous. For her more than for him. He would not be able to save have if anything was going to happen.

“My dear, dear son,” the woman sighed. “This is important. You always knew it.”

Determination and confidence in his mother's voice made the prince to looked at her.

“Yes. The honour is mine,” he spoke and kissed her hand courtly.

“This is a crucial moment.” She touched son's cheek. “Be careful, Bren.”

The prince nodded and put the signet on. It weighed down on his finger, but it felt right. He gave his mother silent farewell and left.

Strange unsettling feeling hatched at the back of his head. The Queen was not the first person to advise him to exercise caution before the Council meeting. Ren had warned him as well.

Bren turned the ring on his finger. Come what may. Even his father would not do it anything unwise before the Council's very eyes. Or maybe he simply deluded himself?...

 

The Councilors gathered near the throne, when he joined them. Every each of them tried to outdo the others in richness of attire. Women held expensive, elven fans. Men girt their waist with ornamented belts encrusted with gold and jewels. In his black general's uniform, with simple, matte breastplate, he Bren felt almost naked.

The assembled company went silent, when the prince came closer.

“Ladies and lords councilors,” he spoke softly, taking his place in the last free seat. Looks on their faces, grimaced in disgust and disbelief, made him sneer. His father did a great job in spreading the rumors about his own son.

Bren leaned against the back of the armchair, passing his fingers over the coat of arms carved on armrests. The huge, six-legged battle beast tensed ready to spring on both.

The murmur of unrefined comments filled the room. The seat, the prince stole in the councilors' view, had been empty for many long years, since his uncle's dishonourable death. All of them wanted it for themselves, but no one was ready to fall into disfavour with the king himself. Bren risked enough, especially since his father had sent him to the garrison on the provinces, after the prince had said a one word too much during their argument few month back. General's title and privileges did not change the fact that it was an exile. And hearsays worked better than a charm. The courtiers would believe everything.

He certainly did not want to draw blood. Fighting the king with a sword brought death to his mother's family. Maybe this this time his father would listen to a reason. Or maybe the support that Bren had would convince him to change king's mind. He hoped.

Bren clenched his fingers on fangs carved in mahogany. Warnings given him by his knight and mother weakened his confidence. They knew something. But neither of them was willing to say anything, Ren out of sheer contrariness, and the Queen out of fear. The pain of the sharp wood bitting into his skin brought him round in the right moment.

The main door opened and the royal herlad come inside.

“His Majesty the King, Brendol of the house Hux, first of the name,” announced loudly.

The Councilors jumped on their feet as one man, except Bren, who raised reluctlantly only when the king himself entered the throne room but even he turned his head to glance at Brendol the First. He always envied his father that diginfied confidence and charisma. When the king walked, everyone's eyes turned to him. But this times was different.

The prince shuddered seeing his father bent and limping. No one cared for his charm anymore, but everyone observed in awe his companion dressed in black. I had to be the enforcer Ren had cautioned him against. She moved light on her feet with a grace of full-blooded assassin, aware of the surroundings. She hid her face behind a mask shaped into a lion with a mane of her own honey blonde hair, curling over her shoulders.

One glance of the Lioness made the members of the Coucil shiver, one of the men gasped under his mustache, some lady fluttered with her fan. No one dared to say a word.

Bren shook his head. That was amazing and scary at the same time.

Ren had the same effect on people. His mighty figure caught everyon eyes, but they could not look at him for long, sensing the aura of untamed rage. The king's enforcer was differenet in that way. The aura of morderous intent veiled in a cold composure.

Lady Lioness stepped back making the way for the king and guarding his every step. She helped him to climb the podium and when the man sat down comfortably, she took place by his side.

The prince ran his eyes from the woman to his father. He changed, not only physically, but Bren focused on the king's bent back hidden under sumtously ornamented robes. The attire embroidered with golden thread did not distract from Brendol's strings of thin hair, or scruffy, grizzled beard falling on gaunt chest. The king had aged horribly since they last, unfortunate talk. Something was eating hom out from the inside. But there was something disturbing about his haggard, furrowed face. From the king's restless eyes the madness glanced sweeping the throne room, until he looked directly at his son.

“YOU!” he roared, making his advisors tremble. “How dare you to seat here, in my presence?!”

Bren grimaced. He did no expect any warm greetings coming from his father, but king's a agitation sounded unnaturally practiced.

“Your Majesty,” Bren spoke and showed the signet on his hand. Simple piece of iron drew everybody's attenition and the prince felt cold quiver travelling down his spine, when the Lioness looked at him from behind her mask. “Is this answer to you?”

The king went silent, narrowing his eyes. A twitching vein popped out on his forehead. He probably did not expect his wife the act against him. This spelt nothing good for the Queen.

“Your Majesty,” croaked the Duke, sitting to the Bran's left. “The boy has rights to this seat, as his grandfather and uncle before him.”

The prince raised his eyebrow. Should he be offended for the lack of respect in the Duke's word or feel grateful for this sudden support? He nodded shortly in the aristocrat's direction, but said nothing.

The enforcer whispered to the king's ear, leaning over him. Brendol's countenance softened and his eyes became empty for a split second.

“I summoned you here today to discuss the topic of our last meeting,” the king spoke beningly as if nothing had happened and he had forgotten about his son's presence in the throne room.

“Lady Treasurer,” he continued turning to a greying woman sitting down in the armchair carved with family crest of a charging bull. “You had our plans delivered. Did look into them?”

Lady Treasurer masked silent cough with her emeraldgreen fan.

“You Majesty,” she mumbled.

“Louder, Duchess, if you please,” urged her the king.

“My apologies,” she spoke, waved quickly with her fan. “A construction of such machines as you designed, exceeds the kingdom's budget substantially. There would be need to raise our taxes threefold and that would be un—”

“Splendid,” the king interrupted her. “Take care of the taxes and double rents. It should be enough for the machines and weaponary, should it not?”

The Duchess clenched her fingers on the fan's handle.

“Yes, my king, it should,” she nodded.

Bren could not believe it. She should know as well as he did that tripling the taxes would destroy their economy. His own father should have know that! Arriving at the decision like that, and making it official without a vote, was unaccteptable and an unlawful act. He looked at the Councilors. None of them even batted their eyelid. It was a flagrant violation of the law and they did not object. It was obvious why.

The prince dig his fingers into wooden armrest. How he hated those corrupted scums. To take every piece of go and let it slip into their own pockets. To let subject to die out and the kingdom rot from the inside. How could they...

“My king,” he spoke out loud. “I do not think it is wise. The kingdom barley recovered after last war.”

As a general, he probably should not say that, but he was the prince at first. He wanted his homeland to flourish. The crown should protect its lands and its dwellers who paid taxes and rents.

Brendol turned his head to his son. Corners of his eyes twitched a little.

“Our enemies do not sleep. They only wait to invade our lands like the last time. Not only we should be ready. We will attack firt to gain the advantage of surprise!” barked the king with foam at the mouth.

“This will cripple the kingdom, father!” snaped Bren, rousing from his seat. “Do you want to destroy you own homeland like the last of the emperors? Are you willing to sacrifice you own people? You are delluded.”

“How dare you?!” howled the king jumping on his feet. His eyes grew wider and wider. “Or maybe... maybe you are one of them?! You have waited for MY throne your whole life.”

“Father!” Bren protested flushed.

“For a long time someone is sabotaging my plans. And you... You little bastard. I should have known. I nured the viper in my own castle. Have you come to kill me?” The king hobbled angrily aroud the podium.

Bren blinked and shook his head.

“Father! My king, I would never... this is some kind of misunderstanding.”

“You come to kill me, yes, yes,” mumbled the king under his breath. “Guards!”

Small squad led by Phasma herself raced into the throne room.

“Arrest him! Arrest this traitor.” The king pointed at his son, panting heavily.

“Father...” Bren did not move at first, when two guards tried to seize him.

“I do not have son,” he heared from his father's mouth when guardsmen incapacitated him, dragging to the door. “And with that bitch I will get even as well.”

“Don't you dare! Leave her out of it!” Bren yanked, fighting keeping him warriors back., but the blow of fist in steel glove in the head sent him to the floor.

He tried to stand up, but overzealous gurdsman treated him with a kick in the stomach. He curled up on the cold stone flooring. Even his own body betrayed him.

Someone, Phasma maybe, caught Bren by the arm and straighened staggering prince up. He walked delirious, from time to time pushed mercilessly forward to his doom.

 

*

 

A sweet female voice woke him up. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around. He was in a garden, sitting on emeraldgreen grass in the shadow of a tree with wide-spreading crown.

The gentle song sounded louder and louder as the woman approached him. She sang in language he barely understood.

“Here you are, darling. I was looking for you everywhere,” the woman stopped crooning and spoke to him. He looked hard at her, but the sunlight blinded him and could not discern her face.

“My dear boy, don't scare me like that,” he murmured kneeling next to him and touched his face with warm fingers. “Why are you hiding? You did nothing wrong.”

He tried to answer, but he could not utter the word. Instead he pressed his cheek agaist her hand, closing his eyes. He wanted to stay like that forever. Warm and safe. And with her.

Fingers stroking his forehead became cold as ice.

“Run, my boy,” he heard quiet whisper by his ear.

He jumped on his feet, knocking the skeleton off his chest. The garden around him was ablazed, filled with leaden smoke and with terrified screams And his hands were covered with fresh, dripping blood.

He ran, but tree branches caught him, pulling by his arms, neck, hair. He fought and fought, but the tree grabbed him and strangled, until he could not breath anymore. Then the darkness came for him giving him a solace and new breath.

 _Kylo_ , a voice called out to him far in distance. He opened his, but saw nothing in the cold, viscous dark.

 _Kylo_ , the same repeated his name louder, echoing under his skull like a curse.

_Kylo... Ky... lo... lo... lo...o..._

 

“Bren!”

Kylo sat up shivering all over his body. He pressed his forehead against his pulled up knees. It took him a while to calm his breath and banging heart. A little left from the nightmare, except the prince calling him for help.

That forced idleness he stucked into inside Snoke's fortress, drove him mad. The warlock had told him to stay and wait patiently for new orders and he disappeared for days now, but just as well it could have been an eternity.

Kylo had thought a lot about the grand, improved scheme. He loathed it, but Snoke's power and the darkenss, they were stron and kept the knight in this place. And yest he wanted... He did not know what really... To stay and fulfill his master's plan... Or to rush at breaknech speed and save his prince.

He stood up and circled his windowless cell like an wild animal in a cramped cage.

He wanted... he wanted... He needed... had to...

He howled, cursing Snoke and Bren, and himself. The world around him exploded with red. His pallet landed on the opposite wall. His armour clattered on a damp floor and the helmet rolled in the corner.

Kylo fell on his knees, panting heavily. He knew. Only one person was able to ease the fury raging in his soul.

“I'm coming for you,” he murmured.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr: [why-so-mischievous.tumblr.com](http://why-so-mischievous.tumblr.com/).


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